Silence
by laurenanon
Summary: The silence that follows the events of the night become too much for Mary. It hurts too much. But she must be strong; she is always strong. Can she find comfort in Matthew? Spoilers for 3x05 - I do not recommend reading if you have yet to watch it!


A/N: So, I was supposed to be doing homework, but I got this idea in my head and had to write it down. I know it's not the most grammatically correct piece of writing, and I know it's short, but this was what came from my head. Not had much writing experience (well.. not on this site!), so bear with me! Oh, and I hope you like it…

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**Silence**

Silence.

Silence is all around her.

The silence is so strong, so loud, so noticeable, it's painful.

Pain.

Oh the pain.

She wants the pain. Anything to take away the numbness she feels, pulsating though her body.

It's strange, Mary thinks, that you can feel numbness just as much as any other feeling. Isn't it supposed to be the opposite? Because she feels everything. She feels it more than she's ever felt anything in her life.

She feels it more than when she was told she was to marry Patrick.

She feels it more than when Kamal Pamuk died in her bed.

She feels it more than when Matthew left her.

She feels it more than when he came home, _finally, _with another woman on his arm.

She feels it more than when he was injured.

She feels it more than _anything. _

Soon even the ceiling turns into something other than a ceiling. It begins to swirl above her head, her vision beginning to cloud with strange dots and lines, so she closes her eyes.

"IT HURTS".

No, no she can't close her eyes, unless she wants to see it again, which she most certainly does not.

Slowly, she rolls on to her side, surprised to see her husband's face so close to her, his nose practically touching hers, his lips nearly meeting her own. Rather than moving away she stays where she is, looking at him.

His blue eyes stare into her own, the moisture in them making them appear to be sparkling. So full of life. Unlike her darling Sybil, whose eyes will never sparkle.

A sharp, powerful sob escapes her, cutting through the silence like a knife. Her sobs become louder, more desperate, and Matthew raises his hand to stroke her hair, her face, her neck. He doesn't pull her to him, instead remaining where he is, leaving that small, barely there gap between the two of them. He wants her to have this moment, she needed this moment, for he knows that tomorrow she will get up, get ready, and be the strong one. Be _Mary. _

Eventually she stills, and the silence engulfs the two of them once more. But she doesn't want silence, the silence is too much.

"Once, when we were girls, Sybil found a small cat in the village. It was obviously a stray… It looked as though it had been dragged through a river. It probably had!" Mary chuckles into the darkness. "Anyway, Sybil being Sybil, she bought it home, walked straight into the drawing room, cat in tow, and asked Mama if she could keep it". Once again she laughs, shaking her head at the memory.

Matthew laughs along with his wife, imaging the scene she was describing to him. "Well darling, based on the fact you have yet to mention having had a pet cat, I believe that the answer was a no..".

"Of course. Mama made it quite clear that by no means was she to bring that cat inside the house again. So she didn't. She kept it in a small box outside, near the servants yard. But that was Sybil, she's always been so caring. Or… had. _Had_ always been so caring." This time Mary does not laugh, and neither does Matthew. "She would have been an amazing mother Matthew, so so amazing. She would have loved and cared for that baby girl so much." Mary whispers her words so quietly that Matthew has to strain to hear her, but he does hear. And what she said hurt. Because she's right, Sybil would have been amazing, not just at motherhood, but at everything else her life had set out for her.

Mary doesn't hear Matthew murmur his agreement into her hair; she's too lost in her own world, a fantasy world where her baby sister was taking care of her own baby. Living her life.

Living.

Mary chooses that moment to move closer to Matthew, to press her body to his, so that they mould together. Their arms twining around the others body, gripping tightly on to whatever skin they are able to reach, holding each other.

Mary's lips are pressed to his neck, right where she can feel his pulse.

Matthew's lips are pressed to her hair, right where he can feel her breathing, her head moving slightly against his mouth.

It's like this that they fall asleep.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I would love to know what you thought, even if it's only a word! As I said, I've not had much experience with writing like this, so any feedback is very much appreciated!


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